


Heavy Metal Lover

by zuotian



Series: Kenman Week 2019 [2]
Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Interviews, M/M, Magazine Article Format
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:15:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21627451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zuotian/pseuds/zuotian
Summary: Crimson Dawn's daily struggles and storied past, as told by the bassist's fiance.
Relationships: Eric Cartman/Kenny McCormick
Series: Kenman Week 2019 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558291
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	Heavy Metal Lover

**Author's Note:**

> i thought this idea was fun but i kind of rushed its execution, so... it could be better tbh. i might come back and give it another go soon.
> 
> written for kenman week day 6: adulthood 
> 
> title from the lady gaga song of the same name
> 
> edit: now featuring accompanying art https://archiveofourown.org/works/21677329

ALL CHARACTERS AND EVENTS IN THIS FANFICTION—EVEN THOSE BASED ON A REAL SHOW—ARE ENTIRELY GRATUITOUS. ALL CANONICAL DIALOGUE IS IMPERSONATED ... POORLY. THE FOLLOWING FANFICTION CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE AND DUE TO ITS CONTENT IT SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE.

_Crimson Dawn’s rise to stardom is nothing short of a miracle. For some, it is akin to the second coming of Christ—if Jesus was a rock ‘n roller, that is. Immediately following their clamorous arrival the death metal band ousted reigning pop queens and mumble rappers from the Billboard charts in a surprising upset. To be fair, a good portion their success can be attributed to controversy—the band’s barely discernible lyrics are inspired by politics and suffice to say lead singer and lyricist Stan Marsh has no shortage of material to work off of._

_Crimson Dawn’s first studio album,_ GARRISON _, is a letter of dissent as much as it is a call to arms. Its title, a double entendre on the President’s surname and the term denoting a formation of troops in defense of a common locale, speaks to more than just the country at large—interestingly enough, each band member hails from the same hometown as Garrison himself, and it is this personal connection which separates Crimson Dawn from other creatives turned political commentators._

_Stan Marsh undoubtedly takes center stage. He not only pens all of the band’s songs but delivers them packaged in his unique brand of guttural rage. Yet, like with any other group, there is a second ringer. In Crimson Dawn, this position fell upon guitarist Leopold “Butters” Stotch, perhaps due to his wholesome, All-American countenance diametrically opposed by his shredded solos. Likewise, drummer Jimmy Valmer is known for his ability to pedal with the best of them despite his physical disability._

_This leaves the oft-forgotten bassist Kenny McCormick. A soft-spoken man of few words, it seems that McCormick doesn’t mind being excluded from the spotlight. One could speculate, in fact, that he prefers it this way. Few know that he is the artist behind Crimson Dawn’s merchandise and album covers. Fewer still know that he proposed to long time boyfriend, Eric Cartman, amidst the band’s success last year._

_I am joined by Eric Cartman today. We are sitting backstage at Coachella. Whilst the band itself is ambivalent towards wealth and fame, Cartman—slightly overweight, donning a Crimson Dawn t-shirt and laminated VIP badge, his brown hair mussed with gel evaporated by California’s heat—appears to eat it up, literally commandeering the craft table. He refused to start the interview until he polished off two burgers and a bottle of beer. After a righteous belch, he gestures for me to speak._

**This is Crimson Dawn’s third time headlining. Last year, the band fronted Lollapalooza. And, of course, there was the infamous riot at the AMAs. Do you expect more violence today, or have they been forced to dial back the theatrics?**

[Cartman raises a hand. He digs a chunk of tomato from between his teeth and flicks it away before beginning.]

Look, sister—

**I am a man.**

Really? Okay, fine. Look, dude. You already got it wrong. There’s nothing theatrical about it. You want theatrics, go to the movies, or Broadway. What the guys do up on stage is play music, that’s it. They are not responsible for the actions of the audience—which, in the instances you mentioned, they never encouraged.

**They did not condone it, either, though.**

[Cartman shrugs.] Venues have security for a reason. The onus isn’t on the visiting act to police the crowd.

**Are you aware that you sound like an attorney?**

Are you aware that you sound like a pedantic douchebag?

**Point taken. I’m just wondering what it is you do for the band. Kyle Broflovski, as we all know, is Crimson Dawn’s manager—**

Don’t you dare compare me to that rat bastard. I’m not a lawyer, anyway. I just have common sense. _That’s_ what I [he pantomimes air quotes] “do for the band.”

**I was only wondering if you assist Broflovski in his managerial duties.**

Managerial duties? You mean, do I help him wipe Stan’s ass? No, I don’t.

**Has your friendship with Broflovski always been strained? You grew up with him and the rest of the guys, did you not?**

We were friends right out the cradle. Not me and Kyle specifically, but the four of us. Me and him and Stan and Kenny. Butters and Jimmy, they hopped on later, but—back in the day, it was just us.

Sure, Kyle and I got into it. We never saw eye to eye on damn near anything, besides the band. It’s like… You play video games, right?

**Every now and then.**

RPGs? [Also known as role-playing games.]

**Sure.**

Okay, so, it’s like in an RPG. There’s the party, and every party’s got support roles. A healer or saboteur or something. Me and Kyle, we were just that, all the way back on Stan’s family farm. When they wanted to get serious, Kyle and I stepped in to help out. The problem was Kyle wanted a cut of the cheese—and, well, I won’t get into all the specifics, but he got it. And I got squat. So it’s a bit of a sore spot, as you can imagine.

**You must have some paid position in the team, though.**

Sure. I do a little of everything. Whatever you can think of, I’ve done it.

**Fans online call you a roadie. What do you make of that?**

If you’re here to bust my balls, we can end this now. I’ve already got a fiance who takes care of that.

**I am glad you** **mentioned** **Kenny. Your engagement is the source of lots of speculation.**

What’s there to speculate?

**Both of you are very private. Naturally people want to fill in the blanks.**

Tough luck. The truth is stranger than fiction.

**What’s that mean?**

It means people can think whatever they want, but they’ll never figure out what’s between us, so—

[Cartman reddens, belatedly realizing the romance in his claim, and busies himself with lighting a cigarette. His cool mask of indifference is reinstated by the time he snaps his Zippo shut.]

Next question.

**You’re often spotted in the background of press junkets, keeping a watchful eye. Has there ever been a time where you had to protect the band physically?**

Oh, shit, yeah. People be crazy. Especially with the kind of music the guys play, the message they’re trying to send. I mean, it’s inflammatory. It’s bound to happen. Like, you mentioned the AMAs—

**There’s video of you tackling a pro-Garrison protester.**

Exactly. That dude got on stage with a knife. He’d already stabbed the nearest security guy, mind you, so it’s just me. I launch myself at him, y’know, subdue him and whatever. Crazy shit. Blood on the floor. They guys don’t skip a beat, keep playing, and the crowd acts like it’s part of the show.

**Did that bother you?**

Nobody knew I got shanked at the time, you see. It was the adrenaline. I didn’t notice, even, until security hauled the guy away and came to check on me.

[Cartman lifts his t-shirt to reveal a crooked scar crawling across his right flank.]

I got twelve stitches. The doctors told me to take it easy, but I was back in the wings the next night. [He rolls his shirt down.] After that, I wasn’t going to take any chances.

**So, you’re an unofficial bodyguard?**

I guess, if you want to get technical about it.

**Does that come naturally to you—like the RPG analogy you made earlier?**

Huh. Well, um…

_Somewhere in the distance Ariana Grande warbles out a sound check, her diva falsetto undercut, somehow, by the promise of Crimson Dawn’s monstrous set. Meanwhile, the band’s personal saboteur ashes his cigarette. He casts a contemplative glance across Coachella’s backstage grounds, a trailer park of sorts for the rich and famous._

**Maybe I should rephrase my question. Do you think your childhood in South Park helped prepare you for what you’re doing now?**

[Cartman laughs, reeled back from the sea of opulence spread before us, and slants me a quizzical glare.] Where the hell are _you_ from?

**Brooklyn.**

Figures.

People always talk about South Park like it’s a goddamn third world country. No thanks to how Stan writes about it. I didn’t lose a leg to a landmine. We had the Internet, and cable television. Or, all of us besides Kenny; if you want a real third world perspective, talk to him.

**Kenny is known to refuse all interview s .**

He’s smart like that.

**Anyway…**

Anyway. To answer your original—stupid—question. Sure. Whatever. South Park really set me up for life. I mean… It’s in the middle of nowhere. People played by their own rules. It’s tricky to navigate. Luckily, I’m a genius. I got us out of countless binds. The guys will tell you different, but I used to be the ringleader. The alpha wolf, so to speak. It’s only recently I took a backseat. Probably for the best—I hate shit like this. [He gestures between himself and I.] No offense.

**None taken.**

So, yeah. In terms of fighting psychos and telling people to fuck off—South Park gave me lots of experience dealing with freaks.

**Do you have anything to say about the allegations of supernatural or extraterrestrial activity there?**

[Cartman’s expression falters.] No comment.

**Let’s switch gears, then. Can you walk me through a day with Crimson Dawn?**

Jesus. Where to begin?

**Perhaps from the start.**

Okay, smartass.

Kyle’s usually the first one awake. He’s got the internal clock of a Marine. The whole idea of all of us being hungover as shit—it’s a myth. Stan’s an ex-alcoholic, so most everything’s dry. The tour bus is stocked full of nothing but Double Dew and coffee, if you want to know the truth. That doesn’t mean we’re all _peachy_ , but we’re not scraping sludge out of our eyes or pumping our stomachs or anything.

So, Kyle wakes up at, like, six or seven in the morning, depending on how many emails he’s got. He’s the Kris Jenner of death metal. If we’re on the bus, he’ll pop into our bunks around eight. If we’re at a hotel, he’ll give us a call—me and Kenny, I mean. He learned not to barge into our room unannounced pretty quick.

**What’s the story behind that?**

Let’s just say he saw an early bird get the worm. A woodpecker, to be precise.

**Okay…**

Either way, we’re all up and at ‘em by eight thirty. Then it’s chow time. Butters’ll take it upon himself to say grace no matter where we are. I find it annoying, but it’s all part of the routine and whatever.

**Butters’ devout Catholicism is an interesting foil to the band’s overall image, I think.**

He’s always been that way. He would’ve gone to seminary school if the band didn’t get signed.

**Really?**

Ask him about it. Just not when I’m in the room, I can’t stand it.

**I’ll keep that in mind. But, please, continue.**

After breakfast, it depends on the day. There’s always bullshit. Most of it’s business. Photoshoots, interviews, talk shows, radio shows, record company shit, blah blah blah. Kyle manages the numbers, the money, the time. I keep track of the people.

**How so?**

If things get weird, I put on the kibosh. If somebody’s entitled, I put ‘em in their place. There’s creeps and sharks out there. The music industry—it’s terrible. No wonder people go insane.

**Does the nature of your shared friendship save everyone from those negative influences, at all?**

I suppose. It’s pretty much a closed system at this point. Nothing gets in and nothing goes out.

**On the flip side, do you ever get sick of each other?**

On the bus, yeah. It’s only so big. Even if you try, you’re never really alone. I’ve had to convince myself not to open a window and tuck and roll onto the highway.

The guys, they have the music to make it worth it. What makes it worth it for me? Or Kyle, for that matter? We don’t get the payoff—the emotional kind, at least. Things can get pretty tense. When that happens, Kenny and I’ll elope for the day.

**What do you do to relax?**

Bowling. I’m serious. I’m really good at it.

**What’s your average?**

Low two hundreds right now. I haven’t played in awhile. Kenny’s abysmal, though.

**There’s rumors you all play intense DnD campaigns.**

That’s actually true. We start a new one every tour.

**Can you run me through your current characters?**

I’m a half-orc Beserker. Kenny’s a zombie Assassin. Stan’s a human Paladin. Butters is a Monk. Kyle’s an elf Warlock. And Jimmy’s a Bard, and also the DM.

We all get pretty into it. When we were kids, we played pretend a lot of the time, with homemade props and everything.

**Some of those fantasy elements bleed into Crimson Dawn’s music. Will the next release have a stronger narrative, maybe?**

[Cartman waves me off.] You’ll have to ask Stan about that.

**Does he retain most of the creative rights over the group?**

I wouldn’t say that. Kenny does a lot, you know, visually. Jimmy and Butters contribute to the instrumentality. And I tell ‘em if it’s shit or not, heh.

**How does the band wind down after a long day of business, or, as you called it, bullshit?**

Sex! [Cartman cackles and slaps his knee.] That and video games. Movies. Half of us smoke a pack a day. But, honestly, we’re so damn tired a lot of the time, it’s easy to pass out whenever.

_A stagehand comes by and mutters something into Cartman’s ear. He straightens in his seat and sucks down the last of his cigarette._

Let’s wind this up. Sound check soon.

**What do you think is the reason for Crimson Dawn’s popularity? Your ties to the President? Or is it beyond politics at this point?**

Garrison for sure plays a part. And, admittedly, Stan milks _that_ particular teat dry. But I think it’s more about how the message gets across, versus what’s being relayed. You can barely understand them, anyway, so that’s not the point. It’s the energy. The feeling. It sounds gay when I say it out loud, but—it’s the truth.

[Cartman flicks his cigarette into the grass.]

Death metal’s gonna save the world. And if not, who cares? I already got mine.

**Thanks for your time, Eric.**

Nobody calls me that besides my mother and Butters.

**Oh—sorry.**

Whatever, faggot.

_Crimson Dawn’s Coachella set was the most destructive performance in event history. The band went on hiatus soon after to create their second album. At the time of this article’s publication, President Garrison remains in office._


End file.
